Saint's Sacrament - Sins of the Father (59 page)

“Creator, I need you to help me. You told me you wanted me to serve people, to help. I can’t do that if my
soulmate is gone. I’m going to use my gifts that you gave me, to help bring my wife out of this. I’m risking my life to do so, but she
is
my life, so in fact, it is no risk at all. My children need their mother, and they need me, too, so please, let this work and if for some reason you are determined to take a life from us, take mine and let her stay here with our children, to raise them and nurture them. I give my life for hers, if that is just the way it has to be…”
He wiped more tears from his eyes and kissed Xenia gently on the lips before exiting the room, to invite the family and friends back inside.

He returned to George, hand
ed him back his phone and thanked him. “Please go home now,” he encouraged him. After a bit of resistance, the old man finally gave in but promised to be back over in the morning and also to bring Saint’s his phone. Saint returned to the room and watched Henry look sorrowfully down at his daughter, and no one said one peep. Saint bided his time and checked his watch.

Xenia, in two and a half hours, we have a date
. Take what I have, my sight, my hearing, my air and my heartbeat, and make it yours. I will see you soon.

He disappeared back out of her room and made his way
to the hospital chapel where he sat, prayed again and meditated…

….and fought his desire to scream out
and tear the world apart...

~***~

Jagger leaned casually on his black Jeep for a good hour before approaching the apartment complex. The entire time, he’d been plugged into Shianne after discovering which apartment she was in. He poured all of his psychic energy into her, all lines were blocked and closed and he was drained from her erratic behavior. He simply went by what Saint told him about her, and sniffed her out. Crazy is easy to spot. Sporadic, irrational energy was tossed his way—things that made no sense. The woman cursed and cried, as if she were heaving a nervous breakdown. No, no one could hear her, but
he
could. He decided to approach her apartment and get to the bottom of this. It wasn’t in his original plans, but he’d called Saint several times and received no answer or returned calls, and realized he’d have to make an executive decision. He realized due to all of his energy work on the suspect, he was unable to psychically tune into Saint as well, to let him know he needed his assistance. As with God, he couldn’t serve two masters. Shianne was in for an unexpected visitor and Jagger was thrilled at the opportunity to work his interrogation tactics on the young lady. Ready or not, she was going to talk and tell him the entire sordid story of her dealings with Sinclair, with or without her consent…

~***~

Saint stood over her. It was exactly 2:32 a.m. The nurse had just left, stating she’d be back in four hours to give Xenia another round of pain medication. Saint hoped that was enough time because he was not completely certain how much additional time he’d need. He only knew, based on what he’d picked up from her damage, it was not going to be an easy, breezy task. He’d spent the first two hours praying over her body, going into trance and meditating. Now, it was time to get to work. He exhaled, walked over to the door and locked it. He returned to her bedside and stroked her arm gently, up and down. He then unbuttoned his bloodied shirt and removed it, casting it off to the side. Gently, he traced the tattoo of his family’s names that resided over his heart. His eyes watered, and he wiped the tears away once more. He’d spoken to Hassani and Dakarai over the phone. It was hard to lie to one’s children, especially children that were psychic, like their father. They knew something was wrong, but he kept trying to convince them both otherwise. The babysitter even stated that Isis had been crying nonstop, and that was so unlike her. Isis was a happy baby, but even she, at her tender age, knew her mother was in peril.

He crawled onto the bed,
framing himself around her. He gently straddled his wife as the blood pressure machine and monitors continued to make a computerized noisy symphony. Saint tilted her chin upward and slowly removed the oxygen mask. In a split second, he opened his mouth, allowing a thick, purple swirl of mist to escape and enter his wife’s body.

Good, very good, baby.
You’re accepting it…

With
lightning speed, he put the oxygen mask back on her and unsnapped the side of her hospital gown. He glanced over his shoulder, paranoid that someone may come. After a brief hesitation, he slid his hand over her breast, right over her heart. Her chilled skin was covered in tiny goosebumps. The room was actually warm. She had been having cold chills no doubt as her body went on a rampage, trying to fight infections. With the palm of his hand, he pressed harder onto her chest, forcing her to gasp. Her eyes remained closed as he continued to do this for several minutes. He spoke to her telepathically, as he continued on…

Xenia, your
brain is no longer swelling. It is healthy, fine and recovered. If you want this healing of your brain, please accept this gift. Xenia, your neck is no longer hurting or strained. If you want this healing of your neck, please accept this gift. Xenia, the bones in your arm are no longer broken, fractured or hurting. If you want this healing of your arm, please accept this gift. Xenia, your stomach is no longer upset. If you want this healing of your stomach and lower intestines, please accept this gift…

And so he continued until he had
gone over every part of her that had been injured and affected from the car accident. Saint opened his mouth once more, and white smoke poured out, soon enveloping her until she could almost no longer be seen. The room drew warmer, as if a small fire had been lit. He ran his hands up and down her arms, warming her further as he continued. He began to chant, rocking back and forth as he ran his fingertips across her heart, her face, and all along her body. The room shook, the vibrations gaining in intensity. He chanted louder and the sound of voices cut through the fog and turbulence. He was in the zone until a knock on the door brought him out of the trance…

He was almost finished
. It appeared her body accepted the gifts he was bestowing. He was being drained, further proof that she in fact was taking all that she needed. It felt like it had only lasted an hour or so, but when he glanced at the red blinking clock on the wall, he realized over three hours had passed. Trickles of sweat ran down his body as he leaned over and tenderly kissed her lips.

Come on baby…open those eyes! Speak to me!

He was so weak, but he pushed himself forward as overwhelming pain swirled inside of his chest.

“Xenia! I said come on, damn it!” he screamed
through the physical torture, his voice hoarse and weak.

Suddenly, she blinked. And blinked
again. Her eyelashes fluttered for several seconds until she opened both eyes and looked around the room in wonder and amazement, as if she’d never seen the light of day before. The fog framed her body but gave him a clear view of her. Saint laughed in sheer relief as he stroked the side of her face, more tears running down his face. He checked her heart and lungs.

Yes
, baby! You’re breathing on your own!

He pulled the gown up, exposing her thigh. The gash in her leg was healing at a fast rate. The knocks on the door
got louder. He closed his mouth, commanding the smoke to dissipate. In a semi-daze, he slid off of her, almost falling to the floor as his balance was compromised. He wobbled to the door, barely making it. Two nurses stood there, their faces twisted in anger.

“Sir, we do not allow patients or their visitors to lock the doors here, as is clearly marked on the door. The lock is only for staff to utilize as needed.”
Both women shot him an irritated glance. He then recalled his state of semi-undress and sweat soaked body as the women looked him up and down in disbelief. They abruptly brushed past him and looked in Xenia’s direction.

“Her oxygen machine stopped, that is why we are here
,” one nurse said as she checked the equipment.

“Hmmm, she seems to be okay
. Not sure what happened.” She looked at the monitors in the room.

The other nurse looked back at Saint as he slumped against a wall.

“Sir, are you okay? You don’t look well.”

“My
…” He saw the two nurses, then, four, then six. They were multiplying then things became blurry and his eyes stung! Stung like killer bees buzzed inside of them. He tried to play it cool. “… apologies…you see, I was praying and…” He slumped to the floor then, holding his chest as unbelievable pain tore through his ribcage with brutal force.

“Sir!”

“…with my wife…for…my…wiiiife and—”

“Sir! Jane, page the doctor! This man is going into cardiac arrest!”

When she said the words, it sounded as if she were speaking underwater. Everything became blurry and in seconds, Saint could no longer hear or see, but he could definitely feel…

~***~

Jagger rapped at the woman’s door, his knuckles beating into the shiny paint finish. He stuck his hands in his jeans pockets and rocked on his heels, waiting. When he received no answer, he took matters into his own hands.

BOOM!

The apartment door swung in and he stood in a living room, looking at a skinny woman with her blonde-streaked dark brown hair in disarray. She lay in the middle of the floor as if she’d been blown away by a strong gust of wind. Startled, she looked up at him and began to scream. Jagger marched up to her and wrapped his hand around her quivering mouth, instantly silencing her.

“Shut…up!” he said between clenched teeth. He grabbed her, raced back
to the door he’d practically knocked off the hinges, and closed it back the best he could. Then he looked around, and dragged her toward a room he could see in the far back.

She
struggled to speak and her eyes roved, wide and wild. Surely she thought the big man was going to assault her, that he’d come to do her physical harm. He tossed her on the bed and locked the door.

“Please!” she screamed louder
. “Please don’t hurt me! I’ve got money, I’ve got jewelry, take what you want and leave!”

“I told you to shut up, and that’s what I mean
,” Jagger said calmly before he removed his jacket and sucked his teeth. “Now look, I’m not here to rob, rape or kill you. I’m here for some information. Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way, ya got it?”

“What…what do you mean?”
She shook like a leaf.

“Saint Aknaten was attacked in a grocery store parking lot.”

He observed the color drain from the woman’s face.

“Believe me, Shianne, Sinclair is not the person you should be worried about.
It’s
me
that you should be afraid of. Now…” He looked down at his nails and picked out a piece of dirt from under his thumb. “Tell me about this shit with the IRS. We know Sinclair had something to do with it, just like we know he had those guys try to attack Saint. Now talk!” His voice echoed in the room.

“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about. I only know Mr. Gray
son from when he used to work at—”

Jagger
was on her like a lightning bolt, her throat in a harsh grip. He zoomed in her face, his nose almost touching hers.

“Shianne, I will squeeze the
pathetic life out of you, do you hear me?! I can get the information I need
with
or without your help, but if I have to go it alone, you won’t be alive to tell your version of the damned story! You’re wasting my time, and my time is precious. Now talk!”

“Oh…okay.” She
wouldn’t stop shivering and now, a lone tear trekked down her face as he continued to hold tight to her scrawny neck.  “Sin…Sinclair is…very angry with Mr. Aknaten…and…he just…wanted him to pay…for what he did. So…” She stopped and wailed, a moan made out of the things fear is made of. Jagger wasn’t moved. He rolled his eyes and shrugged. “He…had…he had…some friends jump Saint.”

“Yeah, we’ve already got that understood. I want to know about the IRS now.”

“I…I don’t know anything about…any…IRS.”

“You know what
, Shianne?” Jagger smirked. “You
just
might be telling the truth. But…I need to be sure.” Suddenly, he placed his hand over her forehead, forcing her down onto the bed. She screamed out, flailing beneath him, kicking her legs wildly.

“Shhhhh,” he said coolly
. “Just relax, young lady. This will be over in just a moment. It may hurt a bit, but that’s a small price to pay. Now, I just need to check what you’re hiding inside of you. I’m tired of waiting to get to the damned punchline. Let’s see here…” She continued to kick about, her muffled screams never leaving the room. “Oh my, Shianne…what do we have here?” He continued to read her until he ran smack dab into something he hadn’t expected. The motherload.

He snatched his hand off of her and looked down at her in disgust.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” He snatched his belt, making it snap as it flew through his jeans loops, causing her to shriek.